


Phoenix’s Vice

by grimalkinInferno



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Blood, Death, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Gratuitous Badassery, MadHouse Misfits, Major character death - Freeform, Murder, Self-Insert, Vagabond's Vagabonds, graphic depictions of douchebaggery, life of crime, ryan haywood's twitch community
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 19:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11043153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimalkinInferno/pseuds/grimalkinInferno
Summary: Everyone’s got something. They just happened to be a little more constructive with it. Or, more accurately, destructive.





	Phoenix’s Vice

**Author's Note:**

> ok so before yall kill me   
> i AM working on Broke His Crown chapter 1. I AM. I PROMISE.  
> it;s gonna be great and worth the wait trust me  
> i just sorta also pounded this out and felt like i should put it somewhere

Kyle was running out of patience. His mark was right there- at the fake meeting place he had sent them, pretended to be one of their creepy gang friends. The open area at the top of Mount Chilliad was usually not anyone’s first choice for a murder, but that’s just what Kyle needed, huddled up in the dingy shack twenty or so meters away. No one would expect to be blind-sided in the open air. This high up, he could probably just push them down the sheer side of the cliff and watch their disgusting body tumble down.

But that felt too impersonal.

Not after what they did.

Kyle’s grip tightened on the knife. It was cruel, curved inwards like a talon, jet black, and built to kill, something he wasn’t used to handling. He had only just managed to pawn it from a friend with his parent’s money.

They would understand their inheritance was used in the best way possible, right?

Ugh, they were even wearing the trademark face paint their cronies all had. Who were they trying to impress with that getup anyway? And the cape was just stupid.

Even as Kyle mentally insulted them, his heart pattered in his chest and his palms grew sweaty. He breathed deeply to calm himself. Just because he had seen what they could do didn’t mean he should be scared of them. And he definitely shouldn’t feel bad about killing them.

Killing. He had played the word in his head over and over for months. He was going to kill them. That was what all this was for. It was the perfect moment, he would have his revenge and they would be dead and it wouldn’t matter their blood was on his hands because they were drowning in innocent blood, he should be called a hero after this by all rights.

Steeling himself, Kyle made his way out of the window farthest from where they were standing. He edged around the corner, deathly silent. It was nearing sunset, and they were standing near the edge like they were going to watch it. Cloaked and silhouetted, framed by a red sun, they looked like a bloody grim reaper.

No, he couldn’t think like that. They were nothing. They were just a murderer and a coward. He would put an end to their stupid antics and the world would be better off without them.

Kyle bent his knees in a ready stance and crept, slowly, forward.

Step. Wait. Step. Can they hear me? Step. The wind is too loud for them to hear. Step. They wouldn’t know what hit them. Step.

Just a few feet away. Was he holding his breath? Just thrust forward, just do it, they deserve it, kill-

And suddenly his world was pain.

His leg was on fire. Where was he? He couldn’t hear anything- the pain was blinding.

Oh God, had he been shot?

Kyle opened his eyes to the orange sky, blurriness at the edge of his vision, and saw Death pointing a gun at him.

No, his head cleared a bit, it was them, the hood ripped away from their face by the wind to reveal the gaudy skeleton makeup underneath. He couldn’t tell what they were thinking, if they were, if they thought or felt anything in their whole life.

Regardless, they spoke.

“That was probably the shittiest attempt at an assassination I’ve seen since the Christmas party last year, and you probably haven’t even had a drink.”

Kyle took a second to let the words pulse in his head before deciding yes, they were even more crazy than he could ever possibly imagine.

They raised an eyebrow, still staring directly into his eyes. “Come on, at least say something. I’m only letting you live this long so you can tell me why you think you need to kill me so bad.”

Kill them, kill- yes, the knife, the knife! He still had it, right there in his hand, his fingers curled around and he steeled himself-

His world exploded into pain again, and with time Kyle found his jaw hurting and his hand empty, the figure above him holding his knife and regarding it with a critical eye.

“Holy hell, this is some good shit. You would’ve had me gutted in seconds, a slow and painful death with no chance for survival. This is mean!” they said gleefully, grinning at the curved edge and trying out a few swings, almost like a child receiving a new present for their birthday. Then their attention turned back to him, those eyes staring straight into his soul again. “Who got you this?”

Kyle swallowed, trying to remember how to breathe. Then he stopped, because he wouldn’t play into their stupid game of intimidation. Anger bubbled fresh and raw in his chest and throat like the blood still gushing from his leg, and he spit it out. “You killed my _fucking parents_.”

This seemed, at least, to surprise them. They stared. Glanced down. Around. Thought about it. Then looked at him with confusion. “Well, gee, I’ve killed a whole lot of people’s parents, I can’t really keep track of ‘em. You sure?”

Kyle gaped. “You- you burned my house down! You saw me! You said ‘see you around’!”

They genuinely pondered this. Stood there, hand on their chin, other hand twirling his knife, and actually thought about it while he had a bullet in his leg. “Did I? That seems like the sort of thing I’d remember, I don’t usually- oh!” They snapped their fingers and beamed at him triumphantly. “You’re the kid from Vinewood! Yeah, I remember that! What a time that was. Y’all had some nice cars.”

He shook his head, ignoring how his balance was sent reeling. “You’re- you can’t be serious. You’re not serious.”

They quirked an eyebrow. “Nah, I’m not usually the serious type.”

Then the grin slipped and suddenly they were right in his face, steely gaze back to bore into his very soul, pressing hard on his chest and knife against his throat and he couldn’t breathe. “But you won’t like me much when I am.”

And then they were back, leaving Kyle reeling and gasping for air again, wondering if the way his blood ran cold was just a symptom of blood loss.

“So this is a vengeance story?” they asked. “You gonna make this your debut as a shitty Batman? All the money and dead parents and tragic backstory, but now actual talent or guts to back it up?”

This was the moment Kyle realized they were sparing him. He wasn’t going to die here. If he could pretend to go along with them, buy some time, maybe look for a right moment, then… well… at least maybe he could get some questions answered.

So he sucked in a breath, put on his best poker face, and tried to bargain with the devil. “Well… you can’t tell me you don’t have some backstory.”

Now this really did shock them. Their face dropped and they gaped before cringing in puzzlement. “You… wanna know about me?”

Yeah, now he was getting somewhere. “I mean, yeah. You can’t just go around killing people and lighting things on fire for no reason. There’s more to people than that, right? What happened to you?”

They held the exact same pose for several seconds. Just looking in astonishment. Then the gears in their head seemed to start turning, and a grin crept its way onto their face. Then a few giggles. Then laughter. Then they were guffawing hard enough to shake their shoulders and slapping their forehead and they were _laughing_.

After a minute they seemed to compose themselves, and wiped a tear from their eye. “Aah, oh man, oh that was great. You actually think I need a reason.”

Then it was like before, and they were on him again and his own knife was at his throat again and he could feel their breath on his face and there was nothing in those eyes but cold calculating death.

“Long live the King, bitch,” they said, with the orange of the sun setting their hair ablaze, and in his last moments Kyle knew why they called them the Phoenix.

* * *

Phoenix wiped the blood off their face with their sleeve and turned back to the sight they had originally come for. It set the world on fire, the sunset painting everything in orange and red and pink, like someone had set off an enormous explosion. They felt their chest grow light and full at the same time with the old comfort, their old friend, ever unchanging but forever evolving.

The thing was, they did have a reason.

Some men just want to watch the world burn.


End file.
